Pale Princess, Black Mistress
by Almond
Summary: An AU of whydoyouneedtoknow’s Dangerverse. The Pack and the rest of the wizarding world believe Narcissa Malfoy to be dead, but in a storyline that involves loyalty warped by insanity, failed blood wards, and ancient rituals, she survives.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: everyone knows Harry Potter et al belong to J. K. Rowling. OFCs and Dangerverse storyline belong to whydoyouneedtoknow. It's recommended that you read her stories before reading this one, as this one may not make sense alone.

**Author Notes**: This was written as collaboration between 3 siblings who are addicted to HP fanfic, and are trying to infect the rest of their family. I've borrowed and modified the wording of two different spells, one spell from Wishful Thinking by The Golden Seraphim, and the other from Torches and Old Flames by Miranda.

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This chapter veers off from Chapter 20 of whydoyouneedtoknow's _Living with Danger._

**Chapter 1**

Narcissa turned away and left the room without another word.

Danger's vision grayed for a moment, and she stumbled backward. Aletha moved to catch her with her free arm. _Must be tireder than I thought._

"Was that you?" Remus asked, looking grave.

"Was what me?"

"You spoke."

"I don't remember saying anything. What did I say?"

"The flower plucks itself; it withers even now," Sirius recited.

"Great, now I don't even have to be asleep to be cryptic."

"We're all half-asleep, I think," Aletha said. She looked at Meghan, then at Hermione and Harry. "Some of us more than others. Let's finish this conversation at home, shall we?"

"Sounds like a good idea."

One by one, they stepped into the fire, called out "The Marauders' Den!" and vanished.

xXxXx

Fragments of broken glass lay on the floor of Narcissa Malfoy's bedroom. A blue liquid dripped from some of them.

There are poisons which act quickly, and poisons which do not. There are even poisons which give their victim a certain, measured term of life, twenty-four hours for instance.

Much can be done in twenty-four hours.

xXxXx

In a darkened house on Grimmauld Place, a being woke. His skin tingled in the special way he dreaded, the way that signified the approaching death of a Black family member. He knew that Mistress was ill with age, but the ember of her lifemagic still sparked at him when he reached out to make certain.

_Who, then?_

As Kreacher made his way up the creaking stairs to tend to his Mistress, he wondered mentally and wandered magically; testing each link he had been granted when he became head house-elf.

It was commonly known that when inside a home or building, one simply had to call for a house-elf and one would appear - regardless of whether you were a guest or inhabitant - as long as the home or building had a bound house-elf. Many of the Pureblood families went further, binding the house-elves to the family members themselves, not the building. This had the added effect of giving the head house-elf cognizance of the health status of blood family.

Kreacher knew not to bother with the direct line; the younger Master Regulus was dead, and the older… well, if Mistress didn't care for her blood traitor son, then he no longer mattered. The same went for the muggleborn-loving Andromeda Tonks. The only other Blacks close enough in blood were Bellatrix Lestrange, and Narcissa Malfoy.

Mistress had doted on her nieces, pinning all her dreams for Pureblood supremacy on them. She had been pleased with both marriages; and had nearly had a stroke from the paroxysms of delight she felt when both couples had sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord.

But her exhilaration was short-lived: the Dark Lord had been felled somehow, and his followers had either struggled to avoid Azkaban, or searched for him fruitlessly until caught by the Aurors. Mistress was fanatically proud of Bella and Rodolphus for never renouncing Voldemort; even if Azkaban had reduced Bella to a warped and tainted shadow of the dusky beauty she once had been. Mistress was less pleased with Lucius Malfoy and his cowardice, but grudgingly accepted that his freedom enabled him to continue working in the shadows.

When Bella had been imprisoned Kreacher's connection to her had dimmed, most likely a side-effect of the Dementors. So that left the pale princess, Narcissa Malfoy.

Kreacher followed the link, testing constantly, searching for the cause of distress.

_There…_

Kreacher stiffened as he reached the door of Mistress' room.

_Poison! No, Mistress mustn't! Spark still there, but dimming, dying, no no no!

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(Chapter 2 coming right up. Please review.) 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: everyone knows Harry Potter et al belong to J. K. Rowling. OFCs and Dangerverse storyline belong to whydoyouneedtoknow. It's recommended that you read her stories before reading this one, as this one may not make sense alone.

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This chapter veers off from Chapter 23 of whydoyouneedtoknow's _Living with Danger._

**Chapter 2**

One thing being a Healer taught you was discipline. Whatever was happening in your personal life could absolutely not be allowed to interfere with giving your patients the best possible care. So Andromeda pushed all her sorrow and confusion and worry to the back of her mind and made rounds with the best smile she could.

Right until a young wizard, wearing the uniform of an Auror-trainee, came stumbling out of the fireplace in the St. Mungo's lobby while she was waiting at the on-call booth. "Emergency," he gasped out. "We need a Healer right away – someone's dying –"

Andromeda snatched her kit and followed the boy back through the fire almost without hearing the destination he called out. He led her down a series of dark corridors, lined with identical doors, all barred –

_Barred?_

And it wasn't until he stopped in front of one of them that she realized what was going on, and who the patient was that she had been called to tend…

"There's nothing I can do," she said flatly, turning quickly away.

"How can you know that?" the Auror in charge, a woman with blond hair going silver, demanded. "At least try." She waved her wand, opening the door of the cell.

Andromeda forced her emotion down and stepped in. But it wasn't easy to look at that face, so still, so white, and not remember…

No, it was impossible. Andromeda put her wand away and took the patient's hand, as she had done long ago, when she was still just tomboy Andy, and the patient was just her annoying little tagalong sister Narcy…

"Andy?"

xXxXx

It is the nature of house-elves to be unseen, discreet. Kreacher had popped directly to the cell where Narcissa lay, hidden from view under the bed.

_Disowned one here… leave! Must save Mistress!_

Kreacher's magic had already begun the process. Being tied to the family gave the head elf certain powers and privileges, controls over the emotional and physical wellbeing of family.

How many bursts of accidental magic had caused havoc in households? And yet, how much higher would the number have been, if the head elf had not been able to quiet cranky toddlers and calm temperamental teenagers? How many times had embarrassment driven Masters and Mistresses to the head elf for healing, when cauldrons exploded or spells backfired? Those elves belonging to Dark families had even more power, not just over superficial wounds, but the very blood and organs of their masters.

xXxXx

At first she thought she'd imagined the whisper, but then she saw that Narcissa's eyes had opened, and were fixed on her.

"Yeah. It's me." She tried to smile. "Hi, Narcy."

"I'm… going. Aren't I."

"I thought that was what you wanted."

"It is." Narcissa's free hand fluttered up for a second, then fell back to the mattress beside her. "Will you… do something for me?"

"Anything." _To make up for everything I should have done when we were girls… I'm sorry I told you to go away so often, you turned to Bella instead, and this is what came of it…_

"My ring. My… heirloom ring. Take it."

"All right." Andromeda gently pulled the ring from her sister's finger. She herself wore the mate to it, of course, and she assumed the third had either been confiscated or was with their oldest sister, in Azkaban… "Do you want me to do something special with it?"

"Yes. Draco. Give it… to him. When you see him again. Or if you ever… find out where he is. They said… they would teach him… my name…" A pause, a long, rattling breath. "I want him… to have something… of mine…"

"I will," Andromeda promised, stroking Narcissa's face. "Hush now, go to sleep. I love you."

Narcissa's face blossomed into a childlike smile. "Love… you…" Her eyes closed.

xXxXx

Kreacher waited impatiently, listening for the sound of Andromeda leaving the cell. Upon hearing this conversation, he become rigid in shock and denial.

_Love? Mistress speaks of love? **To the blood traitor? **_

In that split second, the insanity that had been slowly crawling through Kreacher's mind made further inroads. In that split second, Kreacher made a decision. No longer would he just restore her to health, he would now take her home to Grimmauld Place. And there he would heal her body first, and then heal her mind from this abominable **weakness**.

xXxXx

Andromeda clamped down on herself with all of her Healer's control. There would be a time for tears.

She rose and faced the Aurors. The woman looked considering, the boy just looked amazed.

"She was my sister," she said in her most neutral tone. "She wrote to me today, telling me that she had poisoned herself. That was how I knew I could do nothing. She's in a coma now, but it will be… brief."

"My condolences," the woman said quietly, opening the cell door for her.

"Thank you. Please let me know when you will release her body." Schooling herself to uprightness and steady steps, Andromeda began to walk back down the hall.

She got as far as the next cell.

The smug smile on its occupant's face pierced everything she had.

With a strangled oath, she drew her wand and Stunned the man, consciously restraining herself from killing him instead, or inflicting some kind of lasting damage.

"And thank _you_," the Auror said from behind her, with a short, grim laugh. "I've been wanting to do that for the last three hours."

"Oh, you're quite welcome," Andromeda said, feeling her tension about to release itself in hysterical laughter. "I… think I need to get back, can you show me out?"

"Go on, boy, show Healer Tonks the exit," said the Auror. "Azkaban's too good for this one," she added under her breath, but Andromeda heard her.

"I'll second that," she answered venomously, and quickly followed the trainee, who now seemed afraid that she might hex _him_ at any moment.

_I need to go home. And cry for about an hour. And have my husband hold me, and tell me the world hasn't all gone mad._

_But first I have to finish my shift._

_Duty comes first, after all._

She squared her shoulders and climbed into the fireplace.

"St. Mungo's Hospital!"

xXxXx

The Auror looked into Lucius' cell once more, and then glanced back to Narcissa's cell. _I wager she's glad to finally be free of you. _She turned and headed back to Narcissa's cell, arriving at the doorway just in time to see the house-elf assigned to the cell area snap its fingers to whisk away the body, before popping away itself.

_Efficient little buggers._

xXxXx

Kreacher floated his new Mistress up the stairs to the room he had prepared, one floor above his old Mistress.

Kreacher had already sent magic running through Narcissa's veins, pulling the poison along to her liver. He had boosted the filtering of her blood, separating the poison from it into a ball of liquid that he left sitting in her stomach.

Settling her into the bed, he adjusted the stasis spell he had placed on her so that she would still be able to perform bodily eliminations, but remain unconscious. Later, after the threat of poison was removed and the damage to her organs had been repaired, he would think on how to prohibit her suicidal urge. And then the true project would begin: curing Mistress of **love.**

_Mustn't let Mistress know of Mistress. Heart would break to see another Black lose their way…

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(Please review.)


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